


time stands still

by freyq (antiva)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Fluff, Katsuki family - Freeform, M/M, Other, Yuuri Is Trans, but then is anyone I write that cis, god this is so self indulgent i apologize, happy birthday Viktor, i'm not about that angsty viktor backstory he has friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9056371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiva/pseuds/freyq
Summary: For Viktor, winter holidays used to mean store-bought cakes, a few lazily hung strings of colorful lights, Makkachin in a snowman onesie, and Yakov grumbling birthday wishes at him from across the table.





	1. christmas eve

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing like Christmas and Viktor's birthday to inspire me to write my first thing for yoi, right?  
> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got too long, and... well. Chapter 2 coming soon.  
> (I know very little about celebrations in countries that aren't my own - thank you to Ty for tips! and sorry about inaccuracies.)

For Viktor, winter holidays used to mean store-bought cakes, a few lazily hung strings of colorful lights, Makkachin in a snowman onesie, and Yakov grumbling birthday wishes at him from across the table. They got together for one evening, both men who lived alone, both slightly lonely but never abandoned; a coach and a skater, friends. Viktor has always been thankful for Yakov. The feeling is mutual.

This year, Viktor knows his coach will have people to come home to towards the end of the year: an ex-wife turned best friend, an angry teen turned legendary skater, and the teen's shy but incredibly amiable grandpa, who agreed to visit and help with food. The thought of this small gathering makes Viktor happy. He isn't leaving anyone behind; they have family now, and so does he.

Family isn't a foreign concept to him, but it is one he hasn't associated with much for a long time: as a child, family meant warmth and support – as a teen, it was a string of painful accidents mixed with both mourning and bonding, happiness followed by sadness by happiness – as an adult, it was a bittersweet memory. Up until now, that is. 

This Christmas Eve, Viktor woke up wrapped in soft sheets, with an even softer man at his side. The first thing he saw was Yuuri's hair, sticking up everywhere, an endearing mess of a bedhead – the first thing he did was place a soft kiss right in the middle of it. That woke Yuuri up, bleary eyes, a big yawn, and a quiet 'hello' whispered before he nuzzled Viktor's neck with a hum. 

This Christmas Eve, Mari placed a string of Christmas lights around Viktor's shoulders, Hiroko called him an honorary Katsuki – at least for now, at least until he decides to become one legally, she said with a wink – and Toshiya made katsudon for “all his kids”, placing three bowls in front of three adults, two Japanese and one Russian. The entire time, Yuuri was next to him, or somewhere close running errands, a warm smile and a wink always ready, a golden ring on his finger.

This year was different for everyone, Viktor knew, as in the lazy hours of the morning Yuuri told him all about the previous ones.

“Last year, it was just me and Phichit,” he murmured, fingers tracing a pattern on Viktor's collarbone. “We bought a ton of food and hamster treats. Well, I ended up eating most of the food, and you can't overfeed hamsters or they die, so some treats got left for later, and Phichit didn't eat all that much. It was kinda awkward for me.” Yuuri smiled fondly, thinking about his Thai best friend. 

“We also, um, kissed once, because mistletoe, um,” he said with a blush, “but that didn't really go further. We preferred to stay a bit more than friends, I guess. Dating was never for me, not like that.” He punctuated the statement with a vague hand gesture, and Viktor raised an eyebrow at him.

“What changed?” he asked, and Yuuri hid his face in the pillow for a brief moment. “You don't have to answer that,” Viktor laughed softly.

“I think... it was just that, I needed someone who shared a part of me,” Yuuri murmured, and it was clear he had thought that over and had rehearsed that sentence in his head. Viktor found it totally endearing. “I don't really know how to explain that.”

“I think I get it,” Viktor admitted, looking up at the ceiling. He wasn't lying.

He learned a lot more this morning: how Yuuri had always done video calls with his family that had lasted for hours, how his dog had greeted him in these calls until it couldn't, how Minako was also a honorary Katsuki and how Mari had brought a different girlfriend to the celebrations each year when she was still a teen. He learned that Yuuri and Phichit had spent together every Christmas during the time they shared an apartment, that Yuuri had gone through a phase of replacing the word “Christmas” with “Viktor's birthday” in every sentence he had said, that one year Hiroko and Toshiya had had a major fallout that had vanished with the magic of a Christmas katsudon bowl.

In exchange, he told Yuuri everything he remembered about his past winters and birthdays, earning a laugh for each happy tale and a kiss for each sad one. He had never felt this loved, or maybe he'd just forgotten.

The day following that morning blurred into a mix of laughs, pranks, and Christmas decorations in unusual places, because apparently mistletoe can be anywhere if Yuuri wants to kiss Viktor badly enough. They both eagerly helped Yuuri's parents with cleaning, cooking, and talking to the guests – the onsen stayed open for whoever wanted a warm bath and a good meal during the holidays – and the affection they sneaked in between the errands made Viktor's heart beat faster every time.

All of this settled down when they all gathered for the evening meal – a private one, after all the food had been served to the guests. Viktor kind of spaced out for most of it, as well; the overwhelming emotions and the huge amount of food available after a long day of hard work can do that to a person, he decided, indulging in trying every single thing that was offered to him. He only really remembered one moment: the sort-of toast Yuuri's parents made for their son and Viktor, with a short speech given by a slightly teary-eyed Hiroko and an overjoyed, tipsy Toshiya, both of whom decided to bless the engagement with a bit of alcohol. Yuuri started sobbing halfway through. Viktor was stunned again by the softness and kindness of the Katsuki hearts. He wanted to warm up his heart to match theirs – and perhaps this would not take as long as he'd thought. Perhaps he was worthy of this love and able to return it. 

Now, the evening has made room for the night, and most of the dirty plates from the dinner are clean thanks to the bright-eyed Katsuki siblings. Hiroko, who got up early to prepare for the day, has left to get her deserved rest, and Toshiya is dangerously close to having had too much alcohol. A distressed Mari sits by his side, trying to persuade him to stop and go to sleep; this very argument happened just a few minutes ago with Minako, but Mari obviously failed to make her do anything but finish the bottle and text her ex-boyfriend, a disaster in the making. Makkachin, happy with his Christmas-themed treats, has curled up against Minako and fallen asleep.

“Viktor,” Yuuri calls to him from where he's standing in the doorway from the corridor to the main room. Viktor looks up to see him smiling. “Come on out, time to appreciate winter Hasetsu.” They take evening walks regularly, for leisure or just going home late from practice, but neither feels like it could ever get boring. Viktor nods and gets up, swaying a little with how much he's eaten and drank.

It's beautiful outside: the snow shines even brighter now that it can reflect all the possible Christmas lights, and a few minutes' walk away, in the more busy part of the town, the streets are full of couples, families, and people who don't seem to mind not having anyone by their side. Cheesy pop music can be heard from a shop or a restaurant or maybe a house; two teens are dancing in the middle of the sidewalk, unbothered by anything outside their little world. Viktor holds on tightly to Yuuri's hand.

“This reminds me a lot of our Barcelona walk,” says Yuuri, right thumb playing with his ring. He looks up at Viktor, cheeks flushed from the cold, or perhaps he's just feeling that much. “You know, I wanted that evening to be longer,” he admits, “maybe this is a way to do it.”

“Yeah?” Viktor hums, letting go of Yuuri's left hand to hold on to his right, rings close together. “Want to propose to me again?”

He expects Yuuri to yell, to turn away, to make a face or some other exaggerated gesture; instead, the man laughs. “Technically, I never did propose,” he says, playing with Viktor's hand. “You put this name on a similar meaning I tried to convey.”

“You never corrected me,” Viktor smiles. “And I'm Slavic. I guess I rushed to label it.”

Yuuri nods thoughtfully, then lifts their hands to his mouth and puts a kiss on Viktor's knuckles. “I said it's a good luck charm, and it really was. I wanted luck. And strength. And I wanted to have them with you,” the last words are slow and quiet, the Yuuri who is still anxious showing through the one who knows he can trust Viktor and open up to him. It is all good, they know: Yuuri no longer blames himself for anxiety. Viktor never would, not since he really knows the man. 

“Yet now, the competition is over, and you're still wearing it,” he replies with a smile, distantly realizing that they're standing next to the big Christmas tree, no one directly next to them, holding hands as Yuuri talks about this incredibly intimate concept Viktor hadn't known before meeting him.

“I still want all my luck bound to you,” Yuuri says, brave as he sometimes gets with Viktor. “I want to share it.”

They both laugh a little, moved and amused by how cheesy they can get, but Viktor's laugh gets cut off by a sharp inhale as he sees Yuuri get down on a knee, still holding his hand.

“I- I didn't mean to-” he starts, awkward, suddenly afraid he forced Yuuri to do something he didn't feel comfortable with. Yuuri, however, shakes his head, and squeezes Viktor's hand.

“I can't give you a ring, because you already have it, sorry,” he giggles, eyes bright and fixed on Viktor's. “But let me rephrase what I said, so you don't need to label it by yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” says Viktor in a whisper. He looks away from Yuuri for about a second to see a few people staring at them, faces kind. He can work with this. 

Yuuri pauses for a while, perhaps speechless because of the weight of the situation. It's alright. They have all the time in the world, and all the warmth a winter night can give them.

“I do, I really do want my luck to be with you. And my strength. And, um, everything,” some sort of anxiousness seems to be taking over for Yuuri, but it's not necessarily the bad kind, Viktor thinks. He waits through Yuuri's nervous laugh, never taking his eyes off the man. He's beautiful, with his thick shiny hair and the big eyes hidden behind his glasses.

“I said I needed someone who shares a part of me, right? Well, it's more than a part, actually,” he clears his throat, “Here it goes. Viktor Nikiforov,” he laughs again, this time incredulous and happy and outright amazed at the words he's saying. Viktor holds his breath. “Please make me the happiest by staying with me forever?” Yuuri offers a shy smile.

Viktor hasn't expected it, but tears roll out of his eyes right as Yuuri finishes the sentence. “Yes,” he says, bursting into a fit of giggles, and Yuuri gets up so he pulls him into a tight hug and drags him into giggles as well, “yes, Yuuri, I will.”

Yuuri kisses off his tears first thing when Viktor's hug stops being so completely tight, and they both pretend his eyes and face aren't wet as well. Someone claps – a few someones – but they're both wrapped up too tight with each other to really notice. It's official, now; doubly official, even, a proposal expressed in two ways, with one set of good luck charms.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers into Yuuri's cheek, unable to stop kissing his skin, unable to pull away. “Yuuri. Thank you.”

In response, Yuuri kisses him on the mouth, once, twice, three times. After that, Viktor loses count. 


	2. night of the christmas eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Happy birthday,” Yuuri murmurs, muffled by the way he's trying to kiss Viktor's collarbone at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some distractions and noise later, I end up with 1.1k of chapter 2, and unable to write the 2k or so more this fic needs.  
> I lack focus, but you get an update a day after ch1 and can expect even more. Not bad, I guess.  
> A little tag+rating update, here.  
> Thank you SO much for the kudos/bookmarks/comments! Not replying separately because it messes up the numbers, but know I appreciate every comment with all my heart.

The walk back home is stumbling, cheek kisses and an arm around each other's waist. Viktor pulls Yuuri to a small stand with baked goods and gets them each a cupcake shaped like a rose: blue for Yuuri, red for himself.

They come back to silence, everyone in the inn asleep – save for a few guests, perhaps, but they are all back in their rooms – including Toshiya, who seems to have fallen asleep where he was sat drinking. Mari is nowhere to be found, and Viktor can only imagine that she gave up trying to stop her father and went to sleep. Makkachin is still curled up against Minako.

“Look at them,” Yuuri whispers, a little laugh under his breath, “headaches in the making.”

“That would be me in the past years,” Viktor says casually, only realizing how it sounded when Yuuri looks up at him in concern. “Ah, no worries,” he rushes to add, “I was with friends, of course.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him, but decides to let it go for now, gesturing for Viktor to hand him his coat to put away. His hand is back in Viktor's in no time, and he pulls his lover towards the bedroom – still the same banquet room they first offered to the newly arrived coach, but now the old bed is occupied by two. Yuuri only comes back to his own space when he needs a breath away from everyone. That, too, has been happening less and less often.

There is no rush in their step as they close the door behind them and as Yuuri pulls Viktor towards the bed, grabbing both of his hands, laughter in his eyes as Viktor straddles his thighs. The palms that travel up Viktor's arms, over his shoulders, and down his sides to slide under his sweater and trail up his back are in no rush, either. Both men shiver; their hands are cold, and their bodies impatient despite everything. Viktor's lips find Yuuri's and move in a way that's more of a caress than a real kiss.

“Love you,” he whispers, and feels a sigh escape Yuuri's mouth. He licks Yuuri's upper lip. “Love you so much.” Yuuri rarely says it back, but his face and body are enough of a response. His palms slide up Viktor's sides, attempting to remove his sweater with the shirt underneath.

“I don't think that will work,” Viktor says, and pulls away to allow a slightly annoyed Yuuri to pull his sweater off over his head. The man's shaky hands move to unbutton his shirt, then, and when – after a few attempts with added cursewords – all the buttons are open, Viktor expects Yuuri to slide the shirt off completely, but that doesn't happen. Instead, he finds himself pulled into a tight hug, Yuuri's still clothed arms against his skin, face on his collarbone.

“Yuuri...?” he calls softly, reaching up to card his fingers through Yuuri's hair. He can feel the man smile against his skin as an ancient clock somewhere in the inn announces a full hour – midnight.

“Happy birthday,” Yuuri murmurs, muffled by the way he's trying to kiss Viktor's collarbone at the same time. “I love you.” He kisses it some more, and Viktor can't take it.

“Oh god, come on,” he sighs, moving to cradle Yuuri's face in his hands and kiss him again, deep and thorough, licking into his mouth as if he needs it more than air. At the same time, he reaches down to unbutton Yuuri's shirt, no sweaters in the way this time. “We should get the jeans off,” he pulls away to say, getting a nod in response; Viktor attempts to stand up without breaking the kiss, but fails miserably, bumping their noses together. They both giggle as he gives up and steps out of his jeans, only red boxers with a Christmas tree pattern and reindeer socks left. Yuuri smiles at the sight, wearing identical underwear himself. A gift from Minako, opened the day before the Christmas Eve, as she insisted they wear it right then.

Yuuri rolls onto the bed, leaving some space for Viktor as he gets under the covers, not taking his eyes off his fiancé. “Hurry up, I'm cold,” he murmurs, patting the space next to him impatiently. Viktor winks at him from where he's folding his shirt.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Yuuri,” he teases and laughs at Yuuri's expression. “What do you want to do, love?”

“Nothing if you don't come here right now.”

“I am, I am,” Viktor puts away the shirt and gets on the bed, straight onto all-fours to lean down and kiss Yuuri's neck. Yuuri throws the covers over his back and head, wrapping them both in soft warmth, and Viktor giggles. “Should I ask again?”

“I, ah, wanna kiss all of you,” Yuuri sighs, distracted by Viktor's mouth all over his neck. It's his most sensitive spot, as they've discovered and rediscovered dozens of times, being intimate and more than that.

“Mind if I kiss you some more first?” Viktor asks as his mouth trails down to kiss Yuuri's shoulder, his chest, down through the light scar on his ribs to his soft stomach. That's a tickly spot, he knows; he licks the skin a little, smiling against it when Yuuri begins to giggle and squirm at his affections.

“N-now I do,” Yuuri laughs, making no attempt to push Viktor away, instead stroking his hair with his hands, shaky with laughter. “Ah, let me get my revenge, you'll regret this.”

“Oh yeah?” Viktor pulls away, leaning up again to kiss the corner of Yuuri's mouth. “Ready to regret, then,” he murmurs, and instantly gets flipped over by a very amused Yuuri, who is now straddling his hips and holding his wrists down on the bed, grip loose.

Yuuri shoots him a grin, then puts a line of sloppy kisses down Viktor's jaw and throat. He lets go of Viktor's wrists for the sake of stroking down his sides, fingers barely hovering above his skin, giving him goosebumps. “Who's the winner, now?” he whispers into Viktor's ear with a giggle, and lets himself be pulled down into a tight hug.

“I'm the winner,” Viktor whispers back, “that's what my name means. Also, I'm engaged to you.” 

“Shut up,” Yuuri wraps his legs around Viktor, rolling them both onto their sides, chests and cheeks still pressed together. “I'm a Katsuki.”

“Double win for me if I take your last name. Literally.”

“Definitely unfair.”

“Maybe.”

Yuuri pulls away to look Viktor in the eye, noses touching. “Do you really want my last name?”

“Maybe.”

He flicks Viktor on the forehead. “Maybe?”

Viktor laughs. “I do.”

Yuuri kisses him again.

The night is quiet except for the laughter of two young men, and Yuuri makes good on his promise.


	3. christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was oblivious too,” Yuuri suddenly says, then has a small realization and turns away, as every single time he attempts to be direct. “I mean, um. You know what I mean?”
> 
> Viktor smiles. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and I am SO sorry this chapter is so late, but um. It is there. And it's just more tooth-rotting fluff.  
> Again, I have very little knowledge of how anyone spends Christmas. I also think this is very individual: my own family has habits different to the regular ones. So, if anything's inaccurate, well, it's made up for the fluff convenience, and I won't disrespect anyone by saying I know more than 2 things about Christmas customs.  
> Enjoy, kudos, comment, or not (but I'd love if you did).

“What time is it,” is the first thing Yuuri mumbles when he opens his eyes to Viktor already awake, staring at him with sleepy eyes.

 

“Almost noon,” he says, kissing Yuuri's nose, “we've slept in.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri manages to get his arm from under the covers and reaches blindly behind him to find his glasses. “Mom will be mad...” he tries to put them on without lifting his head off the pillow, but soon he gives up.

 

Viktor laughs a little. “She won't. It's my birthday. That's what she said like an hour ago, anyway.”

 

“Sounds fake,” Yuuri says, the last syllable extending into a yawn. “But okay.” He frowns as Viktor presses a big kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, happy birthday, butt.”

 

“I'd act offended, but there's no time,” Viktor announces, lifting himself up onto his knees and stretching. “There's presents waiting for us, and you need to see yours.”

 

Yuuri rubs his eyes and puts on his glasses, then accepts the hand Viktor stretches out to him to help him up. “Aren't we supposed to open them in the evening?”

 

“Are there rules for that? Also, it's my birthday.”

 

“You may be talking nonsense out of your old age.”

 

“Now I really am offended.” Viktor makes sure Yuuri is sitting up and not going back to sleep, and slides off the bed, looking around for his jeans. “Do you think it's time for our matching sweaters?”

 

Ah, yes. The matching sweaters, two bright red and green monstrosities with ringing bells and every Christmas motive possible, an impulse buy they made back in Barcelona, one that Yuuri cannot think about without a huge mixture of emotion. That was the first thing they bought as – differently labeled, but still – fiancés, ugly matching clothes to go with beautiful matching rings.

 

“I think there is no time better for Christmas sweaters than, you know, Christmas,” he replies, reaching into the bedside drawer to dig up a pair of Viktor's socks to put on. A big challenge, since Viktor wears pairs of socks together only once – right after purchase, afterwards always sporting them in entirely random combinations. 

 

“Fair point, you smart man,” Viktor sings in an exaggerated Russian accent. Yuuri throws a sock at him.

 

They make it out of the old banquet room, eventually, and after they get coffee and some leftovers for breakfast, Mari meets them in the main room, where she's currently hanging a string of Christmas lights. Lights, shaped like elephants.

 

“Elephants?” Yuuri asks, squinting at the little shapes. He absentmindedly pats Makkachin, who approaches them from where he was sitting next to the chair Mari is standing on.

 

“Elephants,” Mari sighs. “Dad just brought them in and told me to hang them up with no explanation. You know how he is, yeah?” 

 

And indeed, Yuuri knows, as the elephants are hard to see in the light of other Christmas lights, and more Christmas lights, and even more lights. Toshiya likes lights. A lot.

 

“Mari, is everyone around here? Can we open the gifts?” Viktor suddenly asks with a big grin, a puppy-eyed look on his face that he's long learned can be used to convince Mari to agree to pretty much anything. She rolls her eyes, attaching the last of the lights to the wall, and calls for her parents.

 

Viktor practically jumps to where the gifts are stacked upon each other, and he may not have paid attention to Christmas before, but everything about this is making him feel warm inside – maybe it's the giver in him that's happy to see everyone get gifts on his birthday, maybe it's just this odd feeling of togetherness, maybe both or something else. He doesn't really care, he thinks, as long as there's this spark of happiness in Yuuri's eyes.

 

“Is Viktor opening his gifts first?” Hiroko smiles, hugging Makkachin, who's ran to welcome her back to the room. Viktor grins at her.

 

“I'm giving Yuuri his gift,” he says, picking up a blue bag decorated with silver snowflakes and turning to present it to the man.

 

“It's your birthday, Viktor,” Yuuri laughs, accepting it nevertheless, a short caress of Viktor's hands as he takes it. “We all got things for you, why am I opening my gift first?”

 

Viktor puts a hand on his cheek and gives him a soft smile, leaning in close to Yuuri's ear.

 

“You are my greatest gift, Yuuri,” he whispers in his most dramatic exaggeration of a Russian accent, and has to pull away before they both start laughing too hard. “I'm serious, though,” he says, this time aloud, and Yuuri looks at him like he's deciding whether to kiss or kill him.

 

He settles on reaching into the bag and as he uncovers the gift his face changes, falling from a big smile to a smaller one, but accentuated with wide, bright eyes and an expression of wonder.

 

It's a pair of skates – a custom one, and a work of art, at that: plain black, just the way Yuuri likes, but the blades – they're gold, and a small Japanese flag decorates each of them.

 

“To match the rings,” Viktor says to him, a little bit anxious somewhere deep inside him, but Yuuri seems speechless, so he laughs. “And your future gold medal, of course.”

 

There's a hint of tears in Yuuri's eyes as he looks up, the wide smile returning to his face, this time so impossibly, beautifully bright that Viktor has no choice but to lean in and kiss it. 

 

“Happy birthday to me,” he murmurs onto Yuuri's mouth, puts a small peck at the corner of it, and pulls away. “What's next?”

 

“I, uh,” Yuuri cuts in nervously, “have your gift back in my room, if we could go there after...”

 

“Ah, mysterious,” Viktor gives him the brightest smile he is able to, and nods happily.

 

Everyone ends up moved and grateful for their gifts, though none are as expensive or symbolic as Viktor's gift to Yuuri; jewelry, accessories, and practical presents are exchanged, and Hiroko almost tears up at the expensive set of cosmetics Minako and Mari brought her from Barcelona. Each of the gifts Yuuri and Viktor receive is accompanied by a pair or two of thick socks, which really, would be enough of a present on its own, if anyone asked. 

 

“I guess... can you excuse us now?” Yuuri asks, when all the gifts have been given. He looks nervous; Viktor covers his hand with his own as everyone nods enthusiastically.

 

“Don't expect anything big, please,” to that, Viktor can only nod. The rings had been a huge gift on their own. “I just wanted you to see this in private, first.”

 

Well, and he can't lie, he has thought over and over what it might be while the rest of the presents were being opened – but he does not concern himself much with that. In the end, he's a man, and there's another holding his hand with love in his eyes: it's what he's always wanted most.

 

Suddenly, he becomes very preoccupied with Yuuri's fingertips grazing his hand as they let go.

 

What Yuuri pulls out from one of the drawers next to his bed is not another set of rings or a suit or a pair of skates. He pulls out a richly decorated album.

 

They sit down. Yuuri gently places the album on Viktor's lap.

 

“This is the first Christmas we're spending – together,” he stutters a little, still so uncertain how to translate his thought processes into words instead of actions. Viktor finds that adorable – has been since day one. “So, I just wanted to – sum up this year. Say thank you. I guess.” He's repeating a bit of his reasoning surrounding the rings. Viktor is very far gone.

 

He opens the album, and the first pictures are not what he expects: they're from banquet night, the first one, right when they met and Yuuri forgot. They're not ones Viktor has seen before.

 

“I swear I asked everyone I've ever spoken to if they had pictures,” Yuuri murmurs, chin settled on Viktor's shoulder. “Utterly embarrassing. I'm never drinking again. But these are good,” he points at two pictures, taken second by second, his own hand very much tangled in Viktor's hair. Viktor is having the time of his life. “I wanted to pick the ones where you look the happiest,” Yuuri adds with a little embarrassed laugh. 

 

Viktor turns the page; there go some of the first pictures taken after he arrived in Hasetsu, mind chaotic and future unclear. Himself, wrapped in three towels – him and Yuuri, a big towel around them in their smaller towels – lots of pre-bath and post-bath pictures, and sometimes he has to look away from the ones where he's looking at Yuuri like nothing else was ever important. He didn't even know how he felt, back then, he only knew he had to stay.

 

The following pages reveal pictures he remembers and doesn't remember taking: his selfie with Yurio, who was passed out on the couch, pictures from the rink, Yuuri's blurry middle finger – what was the context for that? - and a few pages of memories from the summer they spent together. Viktor feels shy thinking Yuuri is looking at these pictures, has looked before, Yuuri has seen the secret looks he sent him before knowing how he felt.

 

“I was oblivious too,” Yuuri suddenly says, then has a small realization and turns away, as every single time he attempts to be direct. “I mean, um. You know what I mean?”

 

Viktor smiles. “I know.”

 

He turns the following pages, one by one, and relives each of the small moments captured by the camera – first mostly selfies and candid pictures they took of one another, later also shots from competitions and taken for who-knows-what kind of media about celebrities. How many people has Yuuri called or emailed, Viktor can only wonder, but he decides to refrain even from that and simply enjoy the pictures.

 

The last ones are from the post Grand Prix Finale gala: colorful lights, enamored crowd, and the two of them, purple and blue, silver accessories and golden rings. Viktor remembers that.

 

During the gala, Viktor lifted Yuuri up mid-pair skate as if to show the entire world he will keep him safe. After their performance ended, they never let go of each other: the night found them still holding hands and Viktor nuzzling Yuuri's neck as they walked into their hotel room, dressed down but overdressed for the occasion, rings occasionally clicking against each other. Viktor thought he'd died and gone to heaven. This little thought has always been tucked safely at the back of his mind, but really, he knows he's very much alive.

 

“Thank you,” he intends to say, but it comes out in a half-whisper as his voice breaks mid-word. Viktor can only chuckle to that. “Thank you,” he repeats, and when he turns his head, Yuuri is there, meeting him halfway, in a kiss like he does in life and love.

 

For Viktor, winter holidays used to mean store-bought cakes, a few lazily hung strings of colorful lights, Makkachin in a snowman onesie, and Yakov grumbling birthday wishes at him from across the table.

 

He keeps the memory of those evenings, fond and thankful for his coach and the little family they created for themselves when times were tough.

 

Now, though, it seems to Viktor that he will always think of winter holidays as a string of days as bright as the elephant lights Toshiya Katsuki wanted put up, and as endlessly peaceful as every second of the mornings he spends next to Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for kudos/comments/bookmarks! I can't reply to every one since I'd spam the comment section, but know I love and appreciate every comment :D


End file.
